For 'Weathered' Winterlings

Don't be too blue, love

Though it is still cold

Earth is a big bud

About to unfold

Don't mourn the moments

We cannot retrieve

Spring gives good reason

To simply Believe

Spotless track-record

Though Her feet may stray

Springtime has never

Forgotten the way

Sooner or later

Green-gold-purple-blue

Will run like a river

Where winter passed through 

Janet~

Perspective

Bit of a chuckle just now as Victoria lay on the kitchen floor and said, ‘from this angle it could be summer, cause all I can see is green on the tree. No snow!’

We are having a snow day in the area with buses cancelled; not much snow so far. My hunch is it’s more of a ‘hockey day’ than a snow day. I know some places that are letting their guys quit early to catch the game in Sochi between Canada and the U.S.A.

It’s not so much the thing that is

As how we choose to look at it

Circumstance is but the half

We can sing the blues or laugh

Everything lasts 'just a bit'

Life is what we make of it

© Janet Martin

This is not intended to be glib but relating to our trite complaining grounds…I know some people who are dealing with life’s big stuff one step at a time and even what they can make of it hurts. ((hugs/prayers))

...off to watch the game;) 

Like Snow Softly Falling...

Like snow softly falling

We sense in life’s moments

The prelude of things yet to be

We cannot keep them

They melt with our touching

Preserved in our memory

Like whispers of longing

And having and holding

Soft and translucent, they slip

Decking the furrows

Of heart-haven hollows

Teasing the mood of the lip

Without reservation

Their taking and giving

Moves through our beings with ease

Invisible ocean

Portend of life’s knowing

Drifts like the snow through bare trees

© Janet Martin

The snow flakes are a little like moments today.

Unless you focus on them they would fall unnoticed…

Beautiful Yesterday...

 This is the swing of my childhood...how I did love to go up in a swing, up in the air so blue...

Though moments may sweep

Temporal pleasure away

I keep my beautiful

Yesterday

Time cannot take

This treasure from me

Kept in the locket

Of memory

Tides ebb and flow

And nothing can stay

But the joy of a

Beautiful yesterday

Today is an offering

Caught in time's decay

Tomorrow it will be

Our yesterday

Lord, teach us to cherish

This moment-sway

Creating a new beautiful

Yesterday

© Janet Martin

In Thankfulness...

In thankfulness lies this thing

Which we all thirst for and covet

So instead of intense searching

For the elusiveness of it

We should lift our heart,

And bow our head

And bend the stubborn knee

For to be truly happy

We must learn to live

Thankfully

© Janet Martin

A Holy Experience

Though Autumn is Folding...

There is peace in The Knowing

That in life’s keen bestowing

Whether of nature, of body or soul

There is a Keeper

Whose visage runs deeper

He sets the pieces creating The Whole

Though autumn is folding

The frames we are holding

And youth-fantasy, like its leaf falls away

Time is a teacher

An earnest beseecher

Molding and shaping our doubtless decay

There is peace in The Knowing

In life’s moment-flowing

We are not pawns in a God-game of chance

But He knows each creature

For He is life’s Teacher

He knows our hearts and its deepest intents

Though autumn is folding

To vaults in Time’s holding

And moments fall soundless; as leaf to the sod

We trust The Keeper

Whose visage is deeper

As He sets the pieces; for He is God

© Janet Martin

Equations~

Life is a drop

In Time’s vast sea

Time is a drop

In eternity

Janet~

Perspective...

There are things in life I quite despise

In which others find delight

Attitude shapes perspective

in life’s peculiarities

that are neither wrong

nor right

© Janet Martin

You should have heard them!

They were having a grand old time

In the tree I LOATHE,

It’s demise has been on our to-do list

for a year! But ‘the wood-cutter’ is hardly ever here!

As I 'clicked' the photo they rose in unison and flew away...chatter, chatter, chatter:)

Equality's Behoovement

All flesh and blood is equal

In the eyes of its Creator

There is no person lesser

Nor is anybody greater

The filament by which we’re formed

From Adam has not varied

Dust we are; to dust returned

As lifeless shrouds are buried

And if all flesh is equal then

Does it not thus behoove us

To love fully our fellowmen

Before Time’s Hand removes us

Dust we are; to dust returned

A humble proclamation

Befitting us for but one thing

Love, without reservation

© Janet Martin

For through the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith. Romans 12:3 NAS

Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Phil. 2:3 KJV

Almost Perfect~

It would have been a perfect day

Love warmed the garden dull and gray

Joy sang from dark-limbed silhouettes

Where hope spawned buds of ruby red

The sun was warm upon my face

Before it melted in the west

In pools of rapture, glory-sent

I sigh; I am almost content

A lone bird wings its way to rest

The moon hangs low on heavens crest...

...above the silent after-math

As this day wanders down the path

Where all its predecessors lie

Somewhere beneath a phantom sky

Yes, it was almost perfect, dear

My happiness shines in a tear

In folds of blue and gold and rose

Another day draws to a close

As on the still and trembling air

I reach to touch you in a prayer

For all the blue and all the gold

Cannot give me you to hold

Almost perfect; yes, it’s true

Almost perfect, but for you

Janet

Perfect Day

I had to look deeper
For the allure of the day
First all I noticed
Was the wash of bleak gray
Hovering above a frigid expanse
Of longing;
But then at second glance
I caught the dawning
Of daylight on the tiny pond
Mirroring the excellence
Of the great beyond
And I looked up
As brilliant gold
Spilled from the dark
And vulgar hold
That held the brush
Of pewter gray
And in the hush
Of ‘almost day’
I knew with out
The faintest doubt
No matter if
The storm clouds shout
And sweep across earths
Somber soul
A perfect Hand
Is in control

Janet~

It is a moody morning…..
The sun broke through for a moment
Before the clouds prevailed
…..And now it is raining

Different Glasses

Because of the roads they have traveled
On entirely different grasses
Two can behold the very same thing
Yet see through different glasses
One sees a plane and stands amazed
At the power which gives its wings
The other sees the dove which halts the plane
And the devastation that it brings
One sees the smile of an innocent child
The other sees it too
But observes the secrets a smile can hide
Behind those eyes of blue
One sees the rose in perfect form
And stands in breathless awe
The other sees crimson and cruel thorn
From wounds, gaping and raw
One may rise to greet the dawn
With great anticipation
The other also sees the sun
But hears only condemnation
For the road that each has traveled
As its destinies unfurled
Have seemed to form the glasses
Through which they view the world......

....yet in all of life's injustices
and roads beyond our control
there's a Father who loves every one of us
and died to save each soul

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin